The Academy
by fishfingersandcustardat221b
Summary: John Watson has recently enrolled into Howard Barrington Preparatory Academy. He has lots of popular friends, what could be wrong about this? Only that he has to be a bully to remain his social status, especially if that means beating up young Sherlock Teen!lock
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Sherlock and I hope you enjoy the story!**

...

John opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "Johnnie! Wake up!"

John wanted to pull the covers over his head and go back to sleep. _But I can't_, He though angrily, _It's the first bloody day of school._ He got up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Walking down the stairs, he could hear the distinct sound of his mother flipping pancakes. _I guess this is the one good thing that comes out of this. _He smiled, and quickly continued down the stairs.

"Morning, mum!" he smiled, grabbing a plate and fork from the pantry.

"John! Your only in your boxers!" She scolded with a hint of laughter.

John grabbed a pancake with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth. "I'll get right on that then."

He kissed his mother on the head then ran upstairs. John rapidly slipped on a flannel top and jeans and ran back downstairs and grabbed his backpack. "Have a great first day of school, sweetie!" smiled Miss Watson flipping her long blonde hair out of the way.

"You too, mum!" he laughed stepping out of the flat. John began sprinting towards Howard Barrington Preparatory Academy. _Who even is Howard bloody Barrington?_ He thought to himself with a smile as he passed the bakery his father and he used to visit. Soon, he could see the school.

John stopped as he reached the front of the school. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Take a good whiff, John. This is where you'll be spending the next 180 school days._ John Watson pulled his jumper down a little, straightened his backpack, ran his fingers through his hair, then walked up the steps to the rich-looking school and opened the doors.

While the outside of the school looked very fancy, with a fountain, a statue of the founder, a large garden and every other protocol for a fancy private school, the inside looked like any normal high school. There where kids walking around, talking, pushing other kids into lockers, making out, throwing papers, everything. John walked forward, only to be tripped by a tall, tan, blonde guy who looked about his age. "Welcome to Howard Barrington Prison, newbie."

He walked away laughing with some other kids. John narrowed his eyes at him and continued down the hallways. "Let's see…" he said aloud. "My locker is 296, and the 200's are this way, so-"

John was interrupted by running into another person. John fell to the ground. "Damnit! One fall on the first day is expected but two is ridiculous…" he said to himself rubbing his head. _Gah, there's going to be a bruise there…_"

"Watch where you're going!" John yelled at the kid.

He looked up at John, he had to be at least a year younger, fourteen. "I deduce that someone dear has died in your family judging by your attitude, and clothing of course. Your clothes scream mama's boy but your acting like a jerk… So I'm guessing it your father?"

John was enraged; he picked up the kid and punched him, sending him into a locker. Standerbys laughed as the kid struggled to get up. A guy walked over to John, "I'd never think a nerd like you could take a smug little brat like Sherlock!"

John looked over to see that the guy who talked was the same guy who tripped him. His friends laughed along with him, and one of them kicked Sherlock in the stomach as he tried to get up. John laughed along with them as they carried Sherlock into the bathroom. He kind of felt bad for the poor guy, he didn't really mean to hurt him, but he hated it whenever someone brought up his dad. But he had no choice but to laugh, it was eat or be eaten here. A dark haired girl walked over to John.

"Hi, I'm Vicky, my friends and I think you're pretty cool! Want to go to class with us?"

She smiled sweetly as she held her books up against her chest. John followed his motives, as well as her mesmerizing attractiveness, and took her books for her and walked her to class.

_Hi dad, I don't know if you can hear me, but high school is going pretty good for me so far. I made some new friends and I'm becoming popular! Isn't it crazy? Bookish Watson beat up a nerd and is going to class with a pretty girl and made an impression on a few jocks. I have a good feeling about this year._

….

John had made lots of popular friends by lunch time. He had Vicky, of course, but she introduced him to her friends and he learned the name of the jock who tripped him that morning, Noah. He sat around a large group of popular kids. He ate his lunch, not really paying attention to Noah's obviously fake story. All he could focus on was Sherlock sitting all alone at a table in the corner of the room. A few jocks could see where John's gaze was heading and got up and laughed, "Not done with him, are we?"

John was picked up and dragged along by Noah. "Guys, give the kid a break."

They couldn't hear him though, they had all gathered around Sherlock's little solitary table. "So, I guess you ignorant brutes came back to defile me, I suppose that's normal for ignoramuses to busy playing around with a dame to actually read a book for once and get and A instead of keeping a D average." Sherlock smirked, giving them a smug smile.

John couldn't help but admire the poor soul. He took on at least five men bigger than him with a smug smile and clearly visible bruises already on his face. That was a boy who could be admired by anyone.

But his infatuation was short lived, for Noah threw the first punch, sending Sherlock into the wall. He slid down and John could see the back of his head was bleeding. When he fell to the ground, it was like he was a puddle, he almost had no form, that is until a football player he knew as Jason picked him up and pushed him towards another person. John only watched from the side as the jocks continued to push him around until one person kicked him in the stomach sending him down.

John was surprised when he was the next person pushed. Noah pushed John towards Sherlock. "Finish him!"

Sherlock looked up at John, his eyes were red and wet from tears and blood was rolling down his nose and through his curly black hair. His chek bruises were puffed out and red and purple. "Go on!" Sherlock sobbed. "You heard them, finish me!"

Instead of looking pompous like he usually did, Sherlock looked angry, angry that John wasn't hurting me, upset that this was happening, and to John's astonishment, readiness. _I don't want to punch this kid, he's going through hell already, this would just make it worse, the poor thing looks like he's about to die, like a little abused puppy. But I can't just get beat up too by helping him, but he obviously needs medical attention…_

John shut his eyes and slammed his fist into Sherlock's nose.


	2. Chapter 2

John smiled as he walked alongside Vicky and Noah. Everything was perfect. He had friends, unlike his old school, and popular friends at that. Girls where flirting with him, boys were asking to play football with him, it was awesome. The only problem was, Sherlock. John wanted to help the kid, but he would gain the same fate if he helped him.

Sherlock was minding his own business, when Noah came up behind him and slammed his books down and shoved his face into the locker. Sherlock screamed in agony, John had broken his nose yesterday to it hurt even when he breathed through it.

John couldn't help but wince; he could feel Sherlock's pain. It seemed every time Sherlock got hurt, John's pity grew heavier for him. But he kept walking as Sherlock starred at him, almost as if he was saying, _why? I know you want to help me but you don't_ with his eyes. It gave John chills.

"Hey John! Me and a couple other friends are headed to the bar tonight! Wanna come?"

John nodded, "But don't we need an adult to buy it for us?"

"Relax, man. The bartender and I are buds."

John smiled and nodded, he didn't think it sounded like a good idea, but he just went with the flow.

….

Five shots of rum and tequila later, John was blabbering on about his opinion on people becoming potatoes.

Noah and the other guys were laughing hysterically and loving life. It was all perfect in his little world; besides the fact he knew he would have a terrible the next day. After a few more funny stories, Noah sloppily pulled him to the side. "H-hey… dude."

"Yesssss?" John slurred.

"See that girl over there?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm thinking we buy her and her friend a few more drinks and bring them into the alley later, what do you think, old boy?"

John may have been amazingly drunk, but he knew what was wrong and what was right. "N-no man."

Noah looked pissed. "Excuse me?"

John stuck up for himself for once. "I said no."

Noah shoved him against a wall, "You do what I say!" then he punched John just as someone walked in.

A large group of people gathered around them to see the fight, even though Noah was drunker than John, he could sure pack a punch. John felt like he had enough, when someone grabbed his hand and whispered, "Run!"

John didn't care who it was, but he ran as fast as he could with the person. They stopped in an alleyway, a few blocks ahead. "I think we lost 'em!" said his savior.

John knew that voice, "Sherlock."

"Yeah, I could tell this would happen because-"

John's mind wandered off. Sherlock, the boy who he had beaten up came to his rescue. Sherlock, the boy who was severely bullied by Noah had gone into the same bar where Noah was and retrieved him. Sherlock, the boy who saved John's life. John knew Noah wouldn't give in, he knew he's keep beating him up until he was dead. It was the heat of the moment, the boy he'd admired was his savior… And he was talking too much.

"Shut up," John slurred.

Sherlock was about to make a protest when John leaned in and gave him a sloppy kiss. The fourteen-year-old was astonished, he never thought that he'd have his first kiss so soon; he never thought he'd kiss anyone besides his mother. He never thought he'd kiss a boy, let alone a drunk boy in an alley way. But Sherlock's amazement was short-lived, he leaned into the kiss and closed his eyes.

John soon pulled away, threw up, and then fainted.


	3. Chapter 3

John opened his eyes to an unfamiliar environment. Feeling frightened, he sat up quickly, causing a sharp pain to go down his back. He winced and grabbed his aching head. "Damn hangover…" he growled. The clock read 4:30 am.

John looked around. It was a simple room, just the bed and a desk. The walls were beige and the bed sheets were white. The only thing that was wrong was-

Sherlock. Sherlock was curled around his torso. John began sweating frantically as Sherlock opened up his adorable grayish blue eyes. They were so innocent and happy. "I can tell by the sweat beads on your forehead you're surprised and scared about your surroundings and that I'm in bed next to you. You see, last night after you kissed me you fainted and I took you to my house to make sure you were all right."

John was speechless, he felt like he was going to throw up.

"Oh," and Sherlock continued with a stoic look on his face. "We didn't have intercourse."

John fainted again.

….

John woke up in Sherlock's bed for the second time. This time it was 6:00 am. Sherlock was curled around John's torso. John smiled, he wanted to get up but Sherlock was cute when he was sleeping, like a little child. John curled up around Sherlock. _I promise I won't let you get hurt again._

…

John went back to his flat around 12:00. He hoped his mother wasn't-

"Sweetie?"

-awake yet.

"Oh, hey mum." He smiled innocently giving her a peck on the cheek.

She didn't kiss him back. "You didn't come home last night…" she said.

She sat at the table, and crossed her legs. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing," he grumbled, about to head upstairs when she caught his arm.

"I just want to know what happened!" she whined in a motherly way.

"I don't want to talk about it!" he screamed.

"Did you take drugs? Do the sex? Did you drink?"

"No!" he yelled.

"Oh my lord, you committed homicide, didn't you!"

"No mum!"

"Just tell me!" she wailed.

"I didn't do anything!"

"You're tearing this family apart!"

"It's just you and me! We literally have no other relations!"

"I feel so far from you!" she sobbed. "I don't know who you are anymore!"

"I SLEPT WITH A MAN LAST NIGHT!" John screamed.

His mother stopped crying. "Oh." Then she smiled. "Just as long as you didn't get any poor girl pregnant!"

Then she walked into her room leaving John in shock.

…

The next day, John was walking through the park when he saw young Sherlock.

"Oh, hey Sherlock!" John called waving his arm.

Sherlock gave a small smile and waved hello to John who was running over to him. "Gotta love fall!" John smiled. Sherlock smiled, it was hard not to considering how happy John usually was.

"Want to go get some coffee?" John smiled, tilting his head to the side. Sherlock was hypnotized by his smile for a few moments, when something felt unusual in his chest.

Sherlock nodded and he and John set out for the shop. "So, thanks for saving me last night, mate."

"Well you would have gotten killed by that brute if I didn't come in and help you," scoffed Sherlock.

"I was expecting a 'No problem,' but that works too!" John laughed. "Oh look! We're here!"

John and Sherlock stepped in and John ordered the drinks as Sherlock found them a seat. Soon John sat down, having a mocha frappucchino for himself and a regular espresso for Sherlock.

"Coffee goes back as far as the thirteenth century," said Sherlock taking a sip of his drink. "In the Ethiopian highlands, a Sheppard noticed his sheep where very excitable after they ate the beans from a coffee tree. He reported his findings to the local monastery, and they made the beans into a drink and drank it. They discovered the drink kept them awake all throughout their evening prayers."

John was dumbfounded. Sherlock looked down a little, "Yeah, I know, I'm a smart ass little brat."

John shook his head. "No, Sherlock that was amazing!"

Sherlock looked back up at John, wondering if he was joking. "Really, because whenever I tell someone something like that they push me down or something like that, they make fun of me. Even the maids that work at my house laugh at me and call me a geek and a nerd."

John was sad for Sherlock, _Poor kid goes through this every day,_ he thought.

"Well let me tell you something," John said leaning towards Sherlock. "They're just jealous of how smart you are."

"Y-you think I'm smart?" Sherlock smiled.

"Yeah! I could never tell someone about the history of coffee on the spot." John leaned back.

Sherlock's adorable, puppy-like attitude disappeared and turned into arrogance. "I don't just look at things like normal people. Like people might see you and just see a kid in a jumper. John, I look at you and I see a man who holds up his house, or apartment according to the state of your sweaters, they're shabby, passed down, and obviously poor looking even without all of the scratches. You also like to run rather than walk, telling by the slight tear in your pants but you decided to walk through the park today because your mother was probably mad at you for not coming home last night. She probably wouldn't have been as mad at you if she had other children to take care of, and since she didn't have any other children she could realize all of her fury upon you without having to worry about other children. Also, if you live in a flat, there wouldn't be room for anyone other than you and your mum. So in conclusion, I deduce that you live in an apartment, have no siblings, like to run, and that your jumper has sentimental value to you somehow, maybe it was your fathers?"

John was awestruck, again. "Ho-how did you know all of that?"

"I just guessed," Sherlock smiled, taking another sip of his espresso.

After he found his composure, John shook his head. "That's all right. But you got one thing wrong, I have a sister but she doesn't live with us."

"I don't expect to get everything right."

They talked a little bit longer then went their separate ways. As John waved Sherlock goodbye, Sherlock smiled and thought, _John Watson, a kind, compassionate, all around great person._

While John had a different idea. _Sherlock, the most amazing human being on the face of the earth._

…

It was Monday at the school. Same as always, except that no one even talked to John. They didn't bully him, they didn't idolize him. John felt good being a wallflower. Suddenly, Sherlock ran up to John. He was smiling and carrying… a bouquet of flowers? John was surprised as Sherlock came up to him, his adorable, innocent eyes full of happiness as he held out the flowers for John to take. "Here, John."

John was so happy, he was about to grab the flowers when he saw the looks of the other students. They were looking at him as if he was an alien. He could hear a few whispers:

"John and Sherlock, what fags!"

"I knew John was gay."

"I knew that the little brat was too!"

And the whispers just continued. John thought of his old school, the insults, the pain, how close he came to suicide. He didn't want to feel that pain, and Sherlock was there to absorb it all.

John knocked the flowers out of Sherlock's hand. Sherlock's eyes were full of surprise, curiosity, but most of all, pain. Sherlock was almost saying, "Why?"

But John wasn't done. "Did you think I was gay, you little faggot!? Why don't you take your flowers to someone who actually cares about you, if you can find anyone you little smart ass!"

Sherlock's sadness was through the roof, he was on the verge of tears, his cheeks were hot with embarrassment, and his eyes showed every drop of sadness that he had. But John wasn't done yet, he pushed Sherlock to the ground where he did start crying. He looked up at John, he was no longer the happy little kid with a bouquet of flowers, but the one who looked like and abused puppy left out ibn the rain.

Kids were laughing at Sherlock from all directions, he didn't even know he had emotions like this, but they were all bursting through, his stomach was churning and hot tears rolled down his face. He looked up at John. _I _loved _you! How could you John?!"_ Sherlock ran out of the school sobbing.

John's gaze softened. He wanted to run after Sherlock, he wanted to apologize but Noah caught his shoulder. "Ha! What a little fag! With an ugly ass face like that, how could _anyone_ like him?!"

All of the jocks laughed, John gave a few fake laughs as well, but he couldn't look away from the door, hoping Sherlock would come back.

…

It was Tuesday, and John wondered when the week would be over. Sherlock didn't come back to school the day before, he tried calling his house but no one answered. John couldn't sleep that night. He was even more worried when he didn't see Sherlock in his first period class. John sat in the middle row while Sherlock sat in the front. He always sat in the front. Sherlock had skipped a grade, so he was in John's grade. John wanted Sherlock to be there, he wanted Sherlock near him, he wanted to see Sherlock's curly black hair and feel the gaze of his sharp eyes. He wanted to hear Sherlock's voice. He wanted every aspect of Sherlock to be there, but he wasn't.

The teacher came in ten minutes late that day. She seemed distraught, and her voice was cracking slightly. "Students, I'm sorry to say this but you classmate Sherlock committed suicide yesterday."


	4. Chapter 4

Hi fans of the Academy! Sorry I never do Author's notes, I always forget :P Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed! All of you are so awesome! I hope you like Chapter 4!

…..

John couldn't breathe. He felt everything falling. Nothing was aligned, nothing was right. The world was spiraling out of control and only Sherlock could stop it, but he was dead. John didn't realize he was screaming, everything was already loud in his mind. He couldn't feel the hot tears flood over his face and hair. The students looked concerned, and the teacher ran towards him, but he didn't notice. He felt the teacher's hand on his shoulder as she tried to lead him, kicking and screaming to the nurse's office. Suddenly everything was still and silent. John could see the astonished faces of his classmates. The awful statement rolled back around in his head: _Sherlock Holmes is dead._

John fainted.

…..

_John felt like he was floating through space. Everything was black and silent, it was so peaceful. John just kept drifting, but he felt so alone. A bright, blue light pierced the darkness. John wanted to run towards it, it felt so comforting. As he reached the light, he realized that Sherlock was standing right in the middle of it. John had no idea how to feel. He wanted to tell Sherlock how much he missed him, how much he loved him, how stupid it was to commit suicide. But John found that his throat didn't work. _

_Sherlock smiled at him, seeming to sense his loss of words. Sherlock put his hand up to John's cheek, John quivered as Sherlock came closer and pressed his lips against his. It wasn't rough, but it felt… Nice. John desired everything about Sherlock, he wanted Sherlock to be by his side at every moment. _

_It was weird, how could all these emotion flood in with one kiss? Did it all start when he took Sherlock to the coffee shop? When Sherlock saved him? When he had to punch Sherlock? John didn't know, but his thoughts stopped as Sherlock gently pulled away. "Wake up, John." He smiled._

_John's little world was falling apart, the blue light faded as Sherlock was pulled back by his subconscious. John tried to run after him, but his feet were stuck to the ground. He gave out a last scream for Sherlock before he awoke._

…..

John awoke with a gasp. His mother was sitting beside him, stroking his hair. "Hey, sweetie." She sighed.

"Hi, mum." He mumbled, coming to.

"We're going home." She said simply.

"Okay."

His mother helped him up and took him to the car. John looked out the window to see the jocks laughing. _How dare they_, John thought angrily. John wanted to be angry, but he started crying. _Sherlock Holmes, I've only known you for a month, how can you take my heart then smash it?_

"Sherlock's funeral is tomorrow, you can go if you want."

"I don't want to."

"Why not? You slept with him after all."

"Mother!"

"Sorry!" she laughed.

John smiled for a second. "But why Sherlock?"

"The worst things happen to the best people, hun."

"Sherlock wasn't a good person. He was a stuck up brat." John mumbled laying his chin on the window.

"Awful way to think of the deceased" his mother scoffed.

"He may have been a smart ass, but he was brilliant," John said.

"Yeah, his mum and I are in a book club together," She said. "I doubt she'll be there today."

"Why tell me this now?"

"It seemed like the right time."

They were both silent until the parked the car and stepped out. _Sherlock, _thought John sadly, _please don't be dead._

…..

John woke up early the next day. It didn't really matter though; he knew his mom would let him skip school. He rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. "I never thought the history of coffee would turn me on, you ass." John smiled.

John got up, shortly after his one sentence conversation with his dead best friend. He poured himself a cup of coffee and made himself two scrambled eggs. He sat down in the dark kitchen and ate in silence. "What do I do now?" he mused. He decided to go on a quick jog to clear his mind.

John ran blindly through town, passing friends and people without a care, he just had to run. Trying to clear his mind failed, everything he saw reminded him of Sherlock. The clothing store had a long trench coat like Sherlock wore, a coffee shop he passed reminded him of the history of coffee, a picture of a rich man reminded John of Sherlock's wealth. _How can I know so little about him yet know so much?_

John kept his tears inside, giving himself a sore throat. _I want to know more about you Sherlock._

John gave up running and walked home.

…..

By the time John got home, his mother was awake in the kitchen, watching TV. "Hi John, I'm just watching the tele', want to join me?"

John ended up being roped into a soap opera marathon. After a few episodes, his mother took a sip of tea and spoke. "Sherlock's funeral starts in an hour, I think you should go."

John looked at his mom with wide eyes and sighed. He got up reluctantly and walked up to his room, where he put on a suit and tie. His mother drove him to the funeral shortly afterwards, and dropped him off for Sherlock's funeral.

John looked around; he couldn't believe all of the maids and butlers beside the couple and boy a few years older than John. They were Sherlock's family. He was appalled at the behavior of the staff. They were drinking, smoking, and laughing when the family wasn't looking. One butler went up to the family and gave a sincere apology, then ran back to a group laughing.

John was horrified at their behavior. Soon all of them left and it was just John st6anding over his friend's grave. He was surprised to see Sherlock's brother run back. "Sherlock's a sociopath you know, the only emotion he showed was when he talked about you."

Then came what John was expecting, the boy punched John in the face. "I will never forgive you for what you've done, John Watson."

John lay on the ground as the boy walked away. _I deserved it… I did this to Sherlock. _

John spent a few more minutes sitting by Sherlock's grave when someone horrible walked over.

"Grieving your boyfriend, fag?"

Noah pushed John's face into the dirt.

"Careful Noah!" said another jock, "He might through a tantrum like he did this morning!"

All of the jocks laughed when a horrible thought came to John's mind. _It wasn't just me, these bastards caused most of Sherlock's heartache, these boys hurt Sherlock in so many ways and they persuaded me to do so as well. I will never forgive them for what they've done._

John got up quick as a bullet and punched Noah in the nose. The jock tried not to scream but John could hear an inhuman noise come from Noah. He grabbed his nose where blood was gushing out. Another jock tried to throw a punch at John but he avoided it and kicked the attacker in the groin and stomach, leaving him wailing on the ground. John was involved in the fight. Pure hatred for these boys ran through his veins. Clouds rolled in and thunder and lightning flashed through the sky.

Noah got back up but was pushed back down by John again. John then hovered above Noah, punching his face so hard that John could hear his cheek bones crack. John slammed Noah's head into the ground repeatedly, until blood gurgled up from his mouth. The other jocks pulled him up and punched him repeatedly; John was no match against five other guys. He threw sloppy punches but the others ended up beating him to the ground. John wanted to run away, but they had him pinned to the ground and they were kicking and stepping on every part of John's body.

Everything felt sore and numb. The pain became worse, yet easier to handle. John's voice was too tired to scream. He tasted a metallic liquid and realized that he was choking on his own blood. He couldn't breathe, his lungs hurt worse than any other part of his body. He could feel himself slipping. _I guess I'll see you soon, dad._

John saw his life flash before him as the jocks kept using him as a punching bag. He saw his young childhood years, when he played with other children. His parents would lift him up by his arms and put him down again, it was a fun little game. The years passed by, a happy little life with birthdays, friends, cake, and fun. Then John started school. His school years where okay until Secondary School, the boys in his class started teasing him, then it just got worse and worse with mean words written on his locker, endless beatings in the hallways, girlfriends who just wanted to break his heart.

John was about to commit suicide when his mother caught him and sent him to Howard Barrington Preparatory Academy. Then his memories of Sherlock, Finally his flashback ended with a boot hitting him in the forehead, cracking something. He could feel himself blacking out, when all of a sudden he could hear a gunshot and the kicking stopped. A familiar face loomed over him. "Sh-Sherlock?"

"John." Sherlock said stoically.

John wanted to say more, but the extreme loss of blood caused him to black out.


	5. Chapter 5

John woke up very groggy in the hospital. _What happened? I'm so thirsty… _All of his memories from the funeral flooded back into his mind. John sat up quickly causing a sharp pain to hit his head. He winced then looked around. There was no one in the sterile, white, hospital room. Suddenly, Sherlock stepped into the room. "Sh-Sherlock?" groaned John.

"Yes" said Sherlock simply.

He didn't look like his usual self. Sherlock wasn't speaking in a monotone, know it voice, but in a soft, about to cry voice. His eyes were slightly pink around the edges. Sherlock ran up to John and gave him a hug and let the tears he was holding in let loose on John's shoulder.

John was surprised to see his friend like this. He never imagined Sherlock crying. John always saw the snobbish, stoic side. Sherlock pulled away from John. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." Sherlock quickly wiped his still teary eyes and pulled a chair up next to the bed. "I thought…. I thought you were dead."

John smiled a little. "Same here." _That sounded awkward you idiot._

They were both silent for a few moments when Sherlock looked at John. They were silent for a few, sweet moments. Bluish and greenish eyes sank into each other. Their heads wavers slightly when they both looked away and Sherlock quickly choked, "Coffee?"

John merely nodded, but watched Sherlock walked out. _Sherlock looks adorable when he's embarrassed. _"What am I saying?!" John tried to deny the thought, but he knew it was true. Sherlock's face turned a light shade of pink around his cheeks and his face scrunched up. He walked quickly and it was just all around cute in John's eyes.

John laid back and closed his eyes, but then they shot open. _I was the reason Sherlock faked his death._

….

John was checked out of the hospital a few days after he saw Sherlock break down with the knowledge he had been asleep for 2 days. John of course had to attend school, but Thanksgiving break was only days away. He wasn't exactly bullied at school, but no one talked to him or sat by him at lunch or during class. He could see Noah and his friends laughing at him from a different table. He caught, "Why doesn't he go cry to his boyfriend! Oh wait, he's dead!"

John smiled for a few minutes, but then remembered an awful thing. After Sherlock left, John fell back asleep and woke up to a nurse checking his IV. "Where's Sherlock?" he asked slightly dazed.

"Who?" asked the nurse.

"My… my friend." He murmured sitting up a little.

"I don't remember seeing the name Sherlock on our check in list. Besides, no one is allowed into your room until you're fully ready to see someone other than a nurse." She laughed quickly and said. "You should've seen your mum. She was practically wrestling us to see you!"

"But I saw him…" John whispered.

"Sweetie, sometimes you can see things when you're close to death." John didn't realize how injured he really was until he allowed the idea of being close to death into his mind, which seemed to set off every part of his body. John groaned in agony.

"You should get some more sleep." Smiled the nurse. "You had five surgeries, broke some bones, and you were eternally bleeding."

John wasn't even sure why he was at school; half of his body was mangled. Another thing was that he could always press charges against Noah, so why was he still acting like a douche? John shook his head and ate the pudding in front of him; it was the only thing he could eat due to the lack of teeth from the fight. He looked over at Vicky, his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend. There was no confrontation about breaking up. John wasn't sure they were even dating. John then thought of Sherlock. His sad puppy eyes, his embarrassed facial expression and walk, his ability to look at a person and tell their life story. What wasn't to like? Well, he was stuck up. _But it's easy to overlook_. John remembered seeing Sherlock in the hospital room, or at least imagining him. _Sherlock was crying… even though I punched him and knocked flowers out of his hand. But he still cared?_ A striking realization struck John.

_Sherlock cares for me._

….

John was driven home by his mother instead of walking home. It was hard for him to walk, one of the jocks and stepped on his legs and kicked his shins. It was hard for john to do anything. His head hurt from the blows, his mouth hurt from the knocked out teeth, his collarbone was broken, his right arm was broken and parts of his left arm was fractured, and his stomach constantly felt sore. His left leg was okay despite his soreness, but his right leg (His right, everyone else's left) was horrid. The muscle in his thigh was torn and it was broken in the areas around his shins. John hated the pain he felt by just standing up.

When they reached their apartment, John climbed out of the car with help from his mother and walked in. The landlady, Miss Cartero, was standing by the door and greeted them by handing John their mail. They walked in the way they usually did to their flat, but the stairs seemed like the world's worst villain to John at that moment. His mother could see his angst towards the stairwell and spoke to the landlady, "Is there a spare room we could use for the night?"

"No!" said John quickly, scaring the woman in the room."No, our food and clothes are up there."

"John, we can get that!"

But the boy was already approaching the stairs at a rapid pace for his state. He gingerly raised his left foot and pulled himself onto the first step. He decided to use his left foot again and use his cane ("Mum! It makes me look like an old man!") to assist him onto the next step, but he had a little trouble that time.

"You don't need to please anyone John." His mom said.

"I'm not." He said simply.

He tried the next step, but a slight movement of his pelvis caused a spasm in his right leg. Before john knew it, he was falling down the stairs, but Miss Watson and Catero caught him. Seeing the pleading look in his mom's eyes, he agreed to stay downstairs for the night.

….

It was an hour later that John's mother had brought down a suitcase full of their clothes and they were watching some talk show while eating strawberry ice cream. "It could be worse." Said John's mom, "We could be poor."

John didn't want to respond to that. He knew his small family was financially stable at the moment, but he knew his mom needed to find a job soon or they would be in trouble. But it would be okay for a little while even when their rent money ran out; Miss Catero was one of Miss Watson's best friends.

As if she could read her son's mind, she said, "Or we could be homeless."

John just nodded and pretended like he was watching the talk show; he had much more on his mind though.

_Is Sherlock really dead? Was I just imagining him in the hospital? If he is alive, will I ever see him again?_ As though the universe heard John's worries, he heard the main door shut and someone walk up to the front desk. "Hello!" rang the familiar voice of the landlady.

"Hello," said a familiar monotone voice. _Sherlock?!_

"I would like to leave this letter to John Watson please."

"Okay! They're right in here!"

As Miss Watson's friend opened the door, John could catch Sherlock leaving in the corner of his eye. It seemed as though the whole world was going in slow motion as John examined Sherlock's very alive features. As Sherlock opened the main door, the biting wind blew his scarf and coat, leaving only a sexy-looking smirk. John was left speechless as he was handed the letter and Sherlock left. He tore it open with greed and savored every hand-printed letter.

_Dear John,_

_I'm not dead. Meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow at 3:00. I hope that works, the school website said that you had tomorrow off for Thanksgiving break._

_-SH_


End file.
